The Drugs That Never Work
by JustAGirl'xo
Summary: The story of young Carla Donovan's rise from an estate kid with no future to the privileged wife of wealthy businessman Paul Connor - but will her fortunes change when she finds herself drawn in by Paul's charming younger brother, and will her own brother ever forgive her for abandoning him? Featuring Liarla, Rob/Michelle, and Carla's strenuous relationship with her errant mother.
1. Memory

**Hello! This is my new fic! Set in Carla's late teens, it tells the tale of how she met and married wealthy business-owner Paul Connor whilst rapidly finding herself falling head over heels for his little brother, Liam. It also focuses on her mother's dangerous addiction to Class A drugs and the antics of little brother, Rob, and Paul's sister, Michelle. This is in first-person, for a change, if too many people dislike the angle, I'll consider a rewrite. I hope you like it, let me know by dropping me a review!**

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The Drugs That Never Work

January 3rd 1992

_'It was my seventeenth birthday. I was in the local bar with a few of my closest friends: Suze, Michelle, Hailey, Gemma and Alicia. I leant closer to Michelle so she could hear my question above the heavy, pounding beats of the music, instantly inhaling the rich waft of designer perfume – not something an estate girl such as myself could ever afford._

_"I thought your brother were meant to be popping in?" I queried, my voice unnaturally loud._

_"He is," Michelle confirmed, "Our Paul's picking him up from Dean's and dropping him off." Ah. Dean. Michelle's handsome boyfriend and the father of her unborn baby. Michelle had explained how, after eventually overcoming the shock of his underage sister's pregnancy, Liam had set out to befriend the perpetrator, two years his junior. The same could not be said for elder Connor brother Paul, whom I had never met, mostly due to our avoidance of Michelle's home and, more importantly, her supposedly nightmare mother. Right on cue, Liam Connor strolled into the lively bar, smug as ever._

_"Omigod, it's him, it's Liam!" Hailey squealed, drool practically dripping from her glossy lips and making Michelle roll her eyes in irritation. I myself had never been particularly attracted to Manchester's ultimate teen heartthrob, though even I was rendered mesmerised as he approached, his shirt unbuttoned so low that it exposed his strong chest and manly chest hair. But then, in strode the man one could only assume was his brother. Paul was taller and his appearance more mature than Liam's boyish grin. He was suited and booted and although I was unaware of his chosen career path, his importance was evident. As soon as he'd reached our overcrowded table, Liam dropped a tiny wrapped box into my lap. We'd been friends for years; he'd been the first person I'd met when I'd started at Barnmount School five years prior. Eagerly, I tore off the wrapping and gave a gasp of surprise as I opened the lid of the box, revealing a pair of glistening silver earrings with little diamonds in the centres._

_"Liam! You sh-"_

_"Shut up, Carla. You wanted them. You know you did," Liam beamed, clearly thrilled with my reaction. Paul stepped forward from the shadows and took my hand in his, bowing his head and pressing his pillow-soft lips against my skin._

_"I don't come bearing lavish gifts, but why don't I buy the birthday girl a drink…?"_

* * *

_I returned to my seat opposite Paul in a fit of laughter, having been prancing around the dancefloor with Liam for the last ten minutes, his friends making rude gestures at us behind my back._

_"He clearly fancies you rotten," Paul chuckled, raising his pint of beer towards his flustered little brother._

_"Give over! He's well out of my league!" I exclaimed._

_"He is not. I'm a better catch than our kid and I fancy you." My head shot up in surprise, my eyes quickly growing wide at his unexpected comment. Paul, however, was completely unaffected by his words, a small smirk appearing on his lips as he took another sip of his pint._

_"Remind me, what is it that you do for a living?" I asked, conscious that my cheeks were beginning to blaze a hot scarlet._

_"I run the local market. Well, I own it, anyway. Liam does most of the managerial stuff, he's just started working as my apprentice. Have you got a job?"_

_"Nope. There's nowt out there."_

_"Well, we're always on the lookout for receptionists…" he replied, shooting me an obvious, suggestive wink, "You could always, you know, come back to my gaff so we can sort things out…" '_I'm a virgin. I'm a virgin. I'm a virgin,' _I thought to myself, an intense panic beginning to rise inside my stomach._

_"I've, er... I've got to get home to my kid brother." And my mother, and her secret stash of cocaine hidden under the cushions piled up on the living room sofa. "Some other time though, yeah?" I stammered, fixing my eyes on the pint glass in his hands. I wasn't frigid, just waiting for the right man to come along and sweep me off my feet, clichéd as it were. Paul nodded, an aura of understanding in his expression._

_"Yeah. Some other time."_

* * *

June 8th 1992

And I hadn't lied. I smiled fondly at the memory, giving a content sigh as I felt Paul's familiar lips against the crown of my head. We'd been openly dating for around five months and, despite a lacking in the sexual intimacy department, our relationship was perfect. Of course, I'd yet to fill him in on my sordid history, even though I knew everything there was to know about his family, from his grandfather's way with women to his cousin Tom's upcoming eighteenth birthday bash, which was supposedly going to be 'a night to remember for all eternity'. At least, that was what it had said on the poorly-spelt invitations. How did you go about telling your new boyfriend that your mum smuggles crack into the house disguised as flour, or that your fourteen-year-old brother has an ASBO and is a brilliant disappearance artist, usually reappearing at the local police station the proceeding morning? Paul's family life was nearing rosy in comparison, with the obvious exception of Michelle's teenage pregnancy scandal which I was, selfishly, thankful for. At least his life wasn't completely flawless.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice muffled by my thick raven hair, "I like trying to guess your thoughts. It's calming."

"Just about my birthday. The night we met. You know, when I promised I'd give you everything…" I murmured, though my flurry of worries were put to an end as he pressed a finger to my lips.

"Which you will, when you're ready," he replied, shooting me a mischievous smirk as he slipped a hand under my head and entangled his fingers in my hair, guiding my to lay beneath him on my old, battered sofa, "Besides, we can still make out…" As he touched several featherlight kisses to my awaiting lips, I felt something stir deep down below, an indicator that I would soon, in fact, be 'ready'. I attempted to deepen the kiss by running the tip of my tongue across his lower lip, but stopped short at his next words:

"I told my mam I'd take you to meet her this afternoon."

"You did what?"

"Look, Car, I promise I won't leave your side, okay? I won't let anyone, not even my own mother, hurt my princess…" As always, I was instantly won over by his angelic words, though as we continued our passionate encounter on my grimy sofa, I began to wonder if agreeing to meet Helen Connor so early on in our relationship was a mistake I'd live to regret.


	2. Danger

**Thanks so much for the reviews! What do you all think about the first-person narrative? It's entirely new to me!**

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June 8th 1992

By three o'clock that afternoon, my blood-red fingernails had been significantly shed, my teeth chattering away with nerves. I clutched Paul's hand as we waited impatiently on the doorstep of his family home, the shrill ring of the doorbell echoing through the large house. It was a four-bedroom semi-detached house on a prim little private estate a mere two from mine; the difference was astounding. Where my gutters were clogged with empty canisters and smashed bottles of vodka littered the streets, Paul's area contained a row of well-groomed front gardens and houses to match, a young married couple holding hands and flirting amorously as they passed along the pavement. It was a storybook dream. Interrupting my amazed observations, the front door was thrown open and the weathered face of a blonde women, her age no older than fifty, was staring back at me. This was Paul's infamous mother. Her harsh eyes scanned over my body – I was dressed in a thin jumper and jeans, covering up a majority of my flesh, though I doubted that this would make any kind of difference whatsoever. I could see the judgements flying through Helen's mind – that I was too heavily made-up, too slim, too much of an estate kid for her precious little boy. I'd always been a 'pretty girl', and I was the first to admit that my long, raven hair, slender build and transfixing jade eyes had often attracted a lot of unwanted attention. Some may even go as far as to say that my appearance was somewhat exotic, and that my semi-Spanish genes clearly shone through. But at that moment, no opinion besides that of my boyfriend's mother mattered to me.

"Carla, I presume?" Helen prompted, her sticklike eyebrows shooting upwards towards her hairline. I nodded, forcing my lips to turn up into a pleasant smile.  
"It's nice to meet you..." I replied, though was ushered into the house and through to the living room before Helen had answered. Paul, ever true to his words, stuck by me, sitting beside me on the sofa and allowing my fingers to lace tenderly with his. His father, Barry, was sat opposite, watching me with approval. Paul's siblings were also present, though whilst Michelle and I were nattering away like the close friends that we were, Liam was appeared to be eyeing me up with an emotion that greatly resembled envy. After pottering away in the kitchen for a few minutes, Helen wandered into the living room to join her nearest and dearest, carrying one prettily-decorated mug and a flask. Naturally, she gave Paul and myself the mug and flask respectively before perching on the chair beside her husband.

"So, Carla, what is it that you do again?" Helen asked, her voice sour with obvious distaste.

"I'm a receptionist, for Paul," I responded. Helen clucked her tongue.

"I see. And your parents? That's if you have both, of course."

"Mum!"

"I'm sorry, Paul, but you can't just jump to conclusions nowadays, not with so many of those types of families hanging around."

"Actually, I haven't seen my father for ten years and I couldn't care less. And my mam, she doesn't work. She was working in a supermarket, but she got made redundant when they went bust last year. My kid brother's got a paper round, too. He's fifteen." I noted out of the corner of my eye that Michelle's cheeks turned a brilliant scarlet at the mention of my brother, who she'd obviously had a crush on since the age of thirteen. Helen, on the other hand, was not impressed.

"Paul, can I have a word? Outside," she snapped, clearing her throat and heading out of the living room. Paul gave a heavy sigh, though pressed a kiss to the side of my head and trotted after his puppet master, regardless of his opinion. As soon as the door closed softly behind him, I was able to hear Helen's furious outrage.

"She's a child!"

"She's seventeen!"

"Exactly! She's younger than our Liam. And her parentage, don't get me started. She lives in a dump, Paul. Her mother's probably on every benefit she can get her grimy little paws on and you really don't want to know what vile rumours I've heard about that brother of hers. Rob Donovan's famous with the women of Manchester, and not for a good reason." I tried to channel out from the mutterings, but was forced to swiftly wipe away a silent tear from my cheek as I felt a reassuring hand fall to my shoulder.

"Ignore her, Car. She's just jealous that you're the other woman in Paul's life. Not even the Princess of Wales would be good enough for her," Michelle scoffed, shooting me a sympathetic smile, though cringing as she heard the words 'scumbag' and 'whore' pierce through the walls. Liam was silent. After a while longer of the awkward atmosphere as we all struggled to block out the innermost details of Helen's rants, Paul burst back into the living room, his teeth clenched in anger and humiliation.

"Come on, baby, we're leaving," he mumbled, grabbing my leather handbag from beside the sofa and quickly leaving the room once again. Wanting to avoid a fight, I touched a goodbye kiss to Michelle's cheek and smiled farewell to Barry before following the man I loved. I wasn't going to say goodbye to Liam, not when he'd spent the entire afternoon either staring or pretending that I was a non-existent speck. As I passed a sour-faced Helen, I froze, unable to prevent the pent-up anger exploding from deep within my chest.

"And for your information, I'm not a whore, or a scumbag. I work my backside off for every single penny of my paycheck," I commented, my eyes furious little slits of danger. Helen snorted, rudely.

"Oh, I bet," she remarked, "Every penny. You know, some of us, my dear, would refer to what you do as 'prostitution'. You know, where you seduce a vulnerable, wealthy man and use him purely for the sake of his money. It's abysmal." I was glad that Paul knew me so well. He tugged on my hand in an attempt to prevent any possible fights between myself and his mother and hauled me towards the door. I slipped on my wedged boots and slung my leather jacket over my shoulders, and was just about to exit through the front door when I felt a strong hand clasp my wrist.

"Carla..." came Liam's smooth voice, which was laced with concern. I turned and found myself staring into handsome blue eyes, which were filled with intense emotion. "Pay no attention to her. She doesn't have the faintest idea what she's talking about..." I flashed him a grateful smile as a silent pause passed between us.

"Babe, let's get out of here," Paul called from beside the car, knocking me from my lethal trance and drawing me over to him. My first meeting with the Connor family had been, to say the least, disastrous, though I was now aware that there was a subtle connection between myself and the youngest Connor brother.


	3. Addiction

**Hello :D. Thank you for the reviews! I'm glad you're all enjoying it :)**

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June 9th 1992

At Paul's insistance, I'd spent the night in a hotel room that he'd purchased for us, not that I'd taken a lot of persuading. Although the night was, in the most part, innocent, I would have taken any old excuse to prevent myself from returning the squalor that I was forced to call my own. I knew that my mum was home, having spent the last few weeks catching up with a mate in Liverpool and leaving me in charge of my fourteen-year-old brother, Rob, who had done a disappearing act as soon as he'd got wind of the fact that Mum was returning. My mum, Sharon O'Brien, had been a wreck ever since my bastard of a dad, Andy Donovan, had walked out on us when I was only eight-years-old and Rob the tender age of five. Instead of turning her attention to us, as any normal young, adoring yet heartbroken mother-of-two would, she'd focused herself on crack cocaine and cannabis, which had quickly become her addiction and destroyed the lives of me and my brother. At nine years of age, I had become Rob's surrogate mother, packing his lunch for him and walking him to school each day. He'd often asked questions such as "Why does Mummy smoke that stuff?" and "Who was the greasy man in the kitchen this morning?". We soon adjusted to the idea that we would wake up every morning to find a new random man, a complete stranger, lounging around on the couch or watching us eat our cornflakes across the kitchen table whilst Mum had popped out to the shops to buy us a pint of milk, despite the fact that there were already two in the fridge. Over the years, she hadn't changed, though her aging face had repelled many of the men and as a result, she was thirty-two and alone. That morning, I wandered along the path that led to our grimy block of flats at a snail's pace before reluctantly shoving my key in the lock, the paint faded, and twisting it. I then began my regular journey up the winding staircase towards our flat, stepping carefully over discarded bottles of whiskey and the drunken man sprawled across the floor, groaning to himself as he suffered from what I assumed was a lot more than a simple hangover. Reaching my front door, I unlocked it once again and had to kick it sharply a few times before it creaked open and my Hell was revealed. Coffee mugs stacked up on the draining board, discarded cigarette boxes strewn out across the dining table and a blood-stained towel thrown in a heap beside the bin, to name only a few of the sights that I was faced with that day. Plus, my pathetic excuse for a mother was lying across the battered sofa on which Paul and I had engaged in our passionate session only one day prior. This was my home shelter. With a hefty sigh, I dropped my handbag beside the front door and, without removing my boots of jacket, sped over to the sofa and fell to my knees beside my mother, my hand automatically sliding underneath her long, tangled hair, raven, like mine, and felt for a pulse. Thankfully, I found one, albeit faint, almost instantly.

"Mum?!" I cried, gently slapping the side of her cheek, "Mum, what the hell are you playing at?!" I demanded, sitting back a little and narrowing my eyes at her haggered face as her eyes, framed with the dark purple sign of drug addiction, attempted to force themselves open.

"Wha-what...?" she slurred, before allowing a groan to pass her wrinkled lips, "Oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh'. Has our kid been home?"

"Who?"

"Rob."

"Oh, 'im... Nah."

"Thanks for the help," I mumbled, pushing myself to my feet and reaching deep into my pocket for my phone, quickly dialling Rob's number for what seemed like the hundreth time that week and waiting patiently for a response. I jumped in surprise as my phone crackled to life.

"Car? What the hell?! You've called me non-stop these last few days, what are you, some kind of stalker?"

"Rob! Where are you?!"

"Out."

"Don't be a prat. I were worried."

"Yeah right. You were too busy shagging your poncy little boyfriend to give a shit about me."

"You're such a tool, Rob. Tell me where you are and I'll get Paul to pick you up."

"I aint going nowhere with that jumped-up tosser. Get Luke to pick me up. I liked him, he didn't strut about in suits and play king of the castle."

"Fine. I'll call Luke, now where are you?"

"Salford."

"Sal-? Right, okay, don't move. We'll be there in twenty." I sighed once again, hitting the mobile number of my unfaithful ex-boyfriend and pressing it to my ear, before covering the speaker with the pad of my thumb.

"Mum? I'm just popping out for a bit, I need to pick up our Rob," I called over her shoulder, though my words fell on deaf ears; Mum was already fast asleep, her mouth hanging wide open, one arm dangling to the floor and the backs of her fingers brushing against the living room floorboards. I shook my head in disgust and headed out of the flat, slamming the door shut behind me. I felt like a mother in charge of two overgrown toddlers, and I couldn't wait until later that evening, when I could phone Paul and escape a world entirely different to my own.

* * *

"So..." Luke murmured, his eyes flickering to me from the road and back again, his ever-present smug making my stomach churn. How he could be so smug after casually snapping my heart in half and then showing off his new floozy to the world and its' mother was beyond me.

"Just shut up and keep your eyes on the road," I snapped, folding my arms huffily across my chest to indicate that I was no longer to participate in any awkward smalltalk. Luke sighed.

"Come on, Car-"

"It's Car-LA."

"Give me a break-"

"Me give you a break?! Are you fucking nuts?!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide as I practically scoffed at his words, "You screwed some blonde Barbie behind my back and now you prance about with her glued to your arm as she giggles and pretends she owns a brain cell... And you expect me to give you a break?!"

"You're being way too over-dramatic, Carla, it's slightly pathetic..." Luke mumbled, his fingers tighting around the steering wheel as he began to grow annoyed with my constant dissing of his tart, not that anybody in their right mind could blame me, "She's not a china doll."

"Oh, really?! Well, she's doing a damn good impression of one! Tell me, does she know how to spell 'Chelsie' or does she make it up as she goes along?"

"Carla..."

"I thought I told you to pipe down?" I sneered, my comment making Luke finally fall silent beside me, the only sound the clicking of the indicator and the low hum of the engine. It was going to be a hell of a long, dreary drive to Salford.


	4. Emerald

**Sorry for the wait - it's been a hell of a week and this busyness isn't over yet, you've been warned! Thank you so much for the reviews, both here and on Twitter! I know that this is far too short, but I thought I'd kept you waiting for long enough...**

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June 9th 1992

Blackened teardrops cascaded down my cheeks as I caught sight of the body of my baby brother draped across one of the benches in Salford Park. He was fine, though; he'd just been scaring off any little old ladies who would stop to ask whether he was okay by playing the paralytic drunk. I could find nothing funny about the situation and firmly told him so, before informing him that he was a prat and taking a seat beside him.

"What the hell were you playing at, Rob?" I asked, my eyes turning dark with concern as I made a mental note of the bruising at the corner of his right eye and the deep cut along his jaw. Rob shrugged.

"What were Mum playing at, you mean."

"Don't try and be funny with me."

"Does it look like I'm laughing? Car, I've had enough of her. I can't stand hearing her crashing glasses about and screeching to one of her Cyndi Lauper songs when I'm trying to do my homework. I bet the cow aint even noticed I've gone."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I exclaimed, though I felt a pang of sympathy inside my stomach at the thought of my pathetic excuse for a mother stretched out across her bed back at home, not knowing nor caring whether her only son, her youngest child, was safe and well, "She's our mum. She'll always care, love, whether you like it or not."

"Most women can give birth, but it takes skill to be a mum. You know that, sis, you're more of a mum to me than she'll ever me…" Rob mumbled, his shaven cheeks flushing an innocent shade of scarlet as I slipped my arm around his shoulder and gave him a loving squeeze.

"Aw, you're so cute when you want to be, kid," I teased. As Rob and I stood as a pair, I allowed my foot to gently kick the empty bottle of whiskey that was positioned at the foot of the bench underneath it. Rob didn't have to know how much I knew. As far as we were both concerned, he was just a little kid who struggled with his home life.

"Sorry I made you bring Luke. I'm a selfish dick at times."

"Yeah, you are. He were a right prat on the way here."

"Want me to beat him up?" I chuckled at Rob's offer, knowing damn well that he was being serious.

"No, Rob, thank you. I think I can handle this one myself," I replied, shooting him a sideways smile as we moved towards the car, where Luke was still sat stoically, staring straight ahead. Rob's eyes, emerald to match my own, narrowed dangerously as he approached and, eventually, slipped into the seat behind.

"You'd better not try to pull owt while I'm in here else I'll smash your poncy little fancy in," he growled, shifting his position so that he was facing out of the window rather than gracing Luke's body with the presence of his eyes. I stifled a laugh as I hopped into the passenger seat.

"That's my brother…" I mumbled under my breath. And my god, was it good to have him safe once again.

* * *

I spent that night at home in the supposed 'comfort' of my old, rickety single bed that creaked when I so much as coughed, wishing more than anything that I was somewhere else with the warm of Paul's muscular body radiating onto mine. I always felt so much happier when I was cuddled up to him. As my old brick phone lit up for the second time, I allowed my eyes to flicker down to it, where I noticed two unread messages. The first was from Paul, a sweet goodnight followed by a flurry of kisses and a loveheart to end. Short, adorable and enough to make my heart melt. I knew that I would receive a similar message when I awoke the next morning. The second, however, was much more unexpected. I had no idea whatsoever how the sender had discovered my number, nor how he had plucked up the courage to actually send anything worth reading.  
'Carla, it's Liam, Paul's brother. Just apologising for my mum again – ignore her. She doesn't understand. I hope you're okay. Love, Lee xxx'  
I sucked in a sharp intake of breath as I double- and triple-checked the contents of the message before diving in and trying to read deeply between the lines. How had he got my number? Had he taken it from Paul's phone? Did that mean that he'd seen some of the messages that had passed between me and his older brother over the months? And, most importantly, why did he care about me at all? There were so many unanswered questions that I knew would plague me each time I laid eyes on him, or Paul mentioned his name. In fact, the sheer name 'Liam' sent a pleasant chill rushing through my veins and causing the tiny blonde hairs all across the back of my neck to stand on end. I groaned. Liam was Paul's brother. Paul's _brother_. As much as they were alike, I couldn't confuse the two. 'Boyfriend' and 'boyfriend's brother' were two entirely different concepts, and mixing the two would lead to endless problems in the long run. I was in love with Paul; I knew that, I could feel the way that my heart pounded wildly in my chest at his smile. And yet, the idea of Liam sprawled out across his own bed, awaiting a reply from me, the frequent checks of his phone lighting up his face for a brief moment before immersing him into darkness once more, made my stomach ache with a longing to speak to him, to ask him the hundred and fifty questions that I had constructed within the last minute. Firmly, I pressed down on the 'off' button of my phone, waiting for the life to drain out of it before placing it in its regular position on my bedside table. I couldn't go messing around with my boyfriend's brother, innocently or otherwise. I would just have to push away the thoughts and make room for new ones featuring me and the man who I claimed to be in love with.


	5. Silent

**PLEASE keep reading and letting me know how it is! I'm actually quite pleased with this chapter. :D**

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June 20th 1992

"Go on then. Enlighten me. What's all this Bildungsroman crap that Jenson's got us bullshitting about?" I sighed, losing all remains of hops as I fell back into my boyfriend's lap and covered my exhausted face with my open text book. The study group that I'd arranged was proving to be unsuccessful. In fact, it was more of a helping-Carla workshop as I was a good six weeks behind due to my having missed a chunk of the spring term for my brother's foolish actions. He'd vanished for a month without a word and I, being the only model of sobriety within our little clan, had been forced to scour the country in search of him, eventually finding him kipping on our second cousin's sofa in Birmingham. If I didn't catch up soon, I'd fail our final exams. Now, at the tender age of seventeen, no lad or lass would want to be trapped inside a living room hunched over textbooks when they'd finished their work weeks ago, so I was eternally grateful to Suzie, Hailey, Liam and Paul. Though Paul, being seven years my senior, was not at all clued up on the Year 12 English Literature syllabus, the way that he soothingly massaged my scalp whenever I demonstrated my 'stressed' expression spurred me to carry on fighting.

"Buildungsroman is a form of literature best described as a 'coming-of-age' novel, where the main character progresses from infancy to early adulthood," Suze recited, beaming from ear to ear with pride. I simply scoffed.

"Swallowed a textbook, have we?" I grumbled, only to be silenced as Paul placed his index finger to my lips.

"Hey. Calm down, darling, you'll get it eventually," he assured me, leaning down to press his lips softly against mine. Hm. An upside-down kiss. Sweet and hot at the same time. I couldn't prevent a smile creeping up on my lips as I mumbled my next words,

"It's alright for you, you just ponce about all day with your facts and your figures and your quotas. And then I show up in the evenings and start making you coffee, black, no sugar because you're supposedly 'sweet enough already'."

"Shut it, Carla."

"Make me."

"Oh, I'll make you all right…" Paul whispered as he brushed my lips with his once again, to the beautiful sounds of his younger brother pretending to gag from the sofa at the far side of the room.

"Urgh. Please. Get a room," Liam complained, rolling his eyes in Hailey's direction, who, from her seat at his feet, began to giggle uncontrollably – and falsely.

"Oi, zip it, little bro, else we'll be 'getting' yours," Paul shot back, his warm breath tickling my face and causing my skin to take on a pretty, scarlet glow. As he continued to spoil me with his kisses, I managed to channel in to the conversation on the other side of the room.

"So, come on, Liam, is there a girlfriend on your side?" Hailey. Subtle as ever.

"Nah." And Liam. As detailed as ever.

"… Got your eye on anyone?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, actually." In spite of myself, my green eyes burst open and I pushed myself into an upright position, stimulating a few irritated grumbles from Paul, though he quickly wrapped his muscular legs around me instead.

"What's this, Leebugs? Who is she?" I demanded, conscious that I sounded a little too interested at my boyfriend's brother's love life. Unfortunately, Liam also picked up on this tone and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Why? Hoping you're in for a chance, Donovan?" he asked, somewhat jokingly.

"You're going bonkers, kiddo, as if she'd give you a second glance with me as her other half," Paul chuckled in response as he swooped down to touch a fleeting kiss to my now-scorching cheek. I glanced over to Liam. Big mistake. As our eyes met, I felt a familiar heavy thudding in my chest and a fluttery stomach, my throat feeling as though I'd just swallowed a large golf ball. Our eyes remained connected for a number of seconds, an amused smirk playing on Liam's lips. He knew. He definitely knew. I glared as he scanned over my body, clad in a cream shirt and a little burgundy skirt, making every inch of my tanned skin prickle with heat and longing. Urgh. I hated the way I could feel pleasure, want, guilt, excitement and anticipation all at the same time, a whirlwind of emotions that I struggled to control. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to take a deep breath, the delicious scent of Paul's aftershave filling my mind and replacing the twisted thoughts. Paul. Paul was where I belonged.

"Car…?" he whispered, his voice so soft that only I could hear.

"Mm…?"

"Why don't we go upstairs, 'ey? Have a bit of a kiss and a cuddle and rejoin this lot later?"

"Paul, they're only here for my sake."

"Blondie's here for Liam and Suze is quite content with her textbook. Come on. Twenty minutes tops." Reluctantly, I nodded, and with Paul's help, I rose to my feet.

"I'm just going to get a glass of water," I informed him, planting a swift kiss on his lips before padding through to the kitchen, the cold tiles of the flooring in the Connor home sending a shiver through my bare feet and up my spine. As I grabbed a glass from the kitchen sideboard and carried it over to the fridge, I was conscious that there was movement within the room, that I had a silent follower. Determined not to be put off, I held the glass to the water dispenser and gently pressed down on the button, waiting impatiently as a stream of water poured into the hollowness. I gulped, a faint shadow falling over me, somebody's warm breath on the back of my neck. I prayed that it was only Paul and that, soon, he would wrap his arms around my waist and cuddle me from behind, though I knew that I was only fooling myself. The waft of aftershave was too strong, too enticing, too alluring to be subtle Paul. Likewise, the brush of his arm as he leant over me to slide a mug off of the shelf beside the fridge was a darker shade than the one that had held me close to his chest.

"Hailey wanted a cuppa," Liam's voice spoke, his accent a thick Mancunian, enough to send an electric shock through my body and seduce me there and then.

"Oh…" I replied, cursing myself as my own voice escaped pathetic and meek. Slowly, I turned to find Liam's bright eyes staring straight into mine, causing my heart to leap into my mouth. We were so close that a mere few inches were required to close the gap between our arms, our lips, our bodies.

"… Paul's waiting for me…" I muttered, holding his eye contact for a few more seconds before reluctantly breaking away, turning sharply on my heel and walking quickly out of the kitchen, my breath gradually slowing and returning to normal. I was pretty unsure of most things, though there was one thing that I was entirely sure of: The danger effect was addictive. I was in a league with my mother. Danger was my own personal drug.


	6. Hooked

**THANK YOU! The reviews for this fic have made me so happy! Though this may be my last update for a while as I'm going to America tomorrow - hope you like it. :)**

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June 20th 1992

My sneaky bedroom romp with Paul lasted a full three quarters of an hour, though it had gone no further than lips, tongues and a fair bit of heavy petting. Luckily, I'd managed to banish any thoughts of certain other Connor men from my innocent little mind for the duration – that would have been too much for me to handle. Soon after our rendezvous, Paul had disappeared downstairs in search of some nibbles to rebuild our energy before slipping back into the study session, though had stopped on the way to answer the phone, and was now nattering cheerily to his cousin, Tom. I didn't mind. I was glad. It gave me a moment to calm my heartbeat to a reasonable pace and keep wondering what Liam was thinking, what he'd thought had been going on. Had he been jealous? Had he been completely oblivious to Hailey's flirtatious behaviour and instead been listening out for confirmation signs from his brother's bedroom? I doubted it. A man like Liam Connor would be all over a pretty blonde like Hailey Robertson, her D-cup bra and her slim waist. She didn't act like a floozy, though she had the attention of every single male within a five-mile radius of the area. Liam was probably relieved that I hadn't demonstrated any form of attraction towards it, therefore making Hailey a free target. My stomach churned at the image of them together on the sofa, one beneath the other, their lips locked. Then, I sternly shook myself. Liam wasn't mine to possess. I was just another in-law to him, or so I thought, until the bedroom door creaked open and a firmer, more toned figure than Paul's slipped inside the room, closing it tightly behind him. Wordlessly, Liam placed a finger to his lips and crept over to the bed, perching beside me. I sat up and swung my legs over the side, shuffling over to be within touching distance. We sat in silence for a while. My cheeks burned crimson as I felt his brilliant blue eyes boring into my skin, through my skintight jeans and flattering top like an x-ray, observing my vulnerability. But I was observing him, too. For weeks, I'd taken note of his little mannerisms, like how he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand when he was nervous, or how he often bit his lips when he smiled. At this moment, his hand was slowly creeping around his body, eventually finding its comfort spot on the nape of his neck. The thought made me feel somewhat more relaxed. Liam was nervous.

"… We need to sort this out, Carla," he mumbled, his own cheeks quickly matching the shade of mine. He rose his head, meeting my eyes for the briefest of seconds before looking away again. I took a deep breath. From downstairs, I could hear Suze and Hailey giggling like a pair of schoolchildren, clearly gushing about Liam's charm and good looks and which one of them he definitely fancied. If I strained my ears even further, Paul's banter became audible, his chuckles ringing through my ears; my embarrassment was making him laugh. At least, that was how it felt to me.

"And what is 'this', exactly? Because right now, I don't know what to do with myself," I replied, for once choosing to speak the god honest truth.

"This. Us. And don't tell me there isn't an 'us', Carla, because there is. I know it."

"I'm with Paul. I love him."

"Oh, aye? I bet you didn't know that I could hear your heartbeat, did you? When I'm close, it's louder. Faster. I can hear it in your breathing and see it in your eyes.

"I didn't know you were watching that closely."

"Well, I am," Liam sighed, seeming frustrated as he dropped his hands to his lap and linked his fingers together. I didn't know how to respond. Not with words, anyway. I wasn't thinking straight as I raised a hand and hooked my index finger underneath his chin, tilting his head up to look into my eyes. I could see my reflection staring back at me amidst the blueness. Ever so slowly, I inched towards him, not aware that I was doing so until I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin, or could hear the moisture of his lips as he parted them slightly. I couldn't help but stare at those lips and the way that they were positioned so perfectly for my own. I wanted to feel them on mine and peppering sweet kissed along my jaw and down my neck. I wanted them now. By that point, we were mere millimetres apart. Suddenly, as my eyelashes fluttered shut, I heard the creaking of footsteps making their way up the staircase, and I leapt away from Liam, only seconds before the bedroom door burst open to reveal Paul on the other side. Liam made a hasty exit, muttering something about us having a heart-to-heart before slipping past Paul and returning to his awaiting fan club, leaving Paul and I alone again.

"That were our Tom," he informed me. As if I didn't know. "He were just letting me know that he were organising another party 'round his gaff tomorrow night. I said the three of us would go together, me, you and the gooseberry."

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June 21st 1992

I checked my reflection in the scratched mirror that was hanging above my dressing table, framed with photographs of happier times; me and Rob, me and my nan, my mum, looking young and radiant before drug addiction left its mark. Scanning my image for flaws, I was surprised to see so many similarities between the reflection and the photograph of my mother. From the colour of our eyes to the way that our hair fell into a parting and framed our faces made me realise that we were two of the same person. Apparently, I'd inherited my father's temperament, but in terms of looks, Mum and I looked like twins. I was dressed in red, my favourite sequinned dress clinging in all the right places, highlighting my slim waist and womanly curves. Teamed with a pair of black killer heels, they made my legs look longer than physically possible. Again, my eyes darted to my mother's photograph and back again. She should have been proud to have produced a daughter so like herself, who, for the first time in her life, felt beautiful. Instead, she was sprawled across the battered sofa with 'The Jeremy Kyle Show' on repeat while Rob was at a friend's. I smiled my own secretive smile, knowing exactly why my skin glowed and my eyes lit up as I thought of the other guests attending the party. For once, I wasn't out to impress any men, not even my boyfriend. I didn't have to. I knew that the man that I wanted would want me whether I looked like a catwalk model. My smile didn't fade as I slung my handbag over my shoulder, or even as I teetered out of the front door with worry at the sight of my mother and her bottles of vodka lined up in preparation along the living room floor. I was beautiful purely for myself.


	7. Shadows

**After a month, it's here! Reviewers - I love you all! Thank you so much! 3**

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June 22nd 1992

I didn't even recognise the heavy tune blasting from the radio in Tom's living room; too many teenage bodies, moist with sweat, were separating me from it, the stench of body odour pounding my senses, leaving no room to think about anything else. The lights had been dimmed, creating shadows and dancing silhouettes across the plain-painted walls, the sound of laughter ringing through the arm, barely audible above the racket issuing from the speakers. I could still taste the bitter aftertaste of vodka on my tongue, having necked a fair amount since my arrival over an hour ago. If it wasn't for Paul's strong, protective arms wrapped around my waist, his knuckles kneading into the tense muscles in my back and creating satisfaction on my part, I'd barely be able to stand, let alone side-step in time to the music. He was acting as my rock. And as he leant in towards me, his breath hot against my cheek, I didn't want to be anywhere else. He hesitated for a moment, making me squirm in anticipation, before murmuring his words of seduction, tickling my ear.

"Carla… Do you think this is the night?" he asked, his voice hopeful. I smirked. I knew exactly how much power I had over the man in my arms, despite his superior age and experience.

"I don't know… Why don't you try and get me a little drunker and maybe you'll find out?" I responded, slipping out of the physical security of his embrace and instead collapsing into the sofa seat beside me, tilting my head back and closing my eyes to prevent my head spinning. The next thing I knew, I could taste the sweet flavour of red wine on my lips as Paul's brushed against mine; instantly, my tongue darted out, lapping up the droplets that had gathered in the corners of his mouth. His warm hands crept up underneath my dress and came to rest on the mounds of flesh at the centre of my chest, stimulating a groan from deep within my chest. I didn't care that every eye in the room may have been fixed on my seventeen-year-old body wriggling underneath his, my lips so crushed against his by this point that my breaths were an occasional gasp at stolen moments. Before I had a chance to understand what was happening, I was quickly lifted into Paul's arms and held close to his chest. My eyelids flickered open. I watched as each carpeted stair passed below me with a slight creak as I was carried in the direction of one of the few bedrooms in Tom's house, presumably the one belonging to his parents, with a king size bed and plenty of privacy. My heart raced, adrenaline pumping around in my veins as each step drew us closer to the consummation of our relationship and the loss of my virginity. I was a mixture of excited and terrified, unable to distinguish between the two polarised emotions. In fact, it wasn't until I'd been placed on the bed with Paul laid next to me, leafing through the numerous packets of condoms that he'd drawn from the pocket of his jeans. Watching him so at ease, as if the prospect of having me made no difference to him whatsoever, created a pang of nerves within my stomach. I had changed my mind. I couldn't go through with it.

"Paul, no…" I sighed, placing my hand on his arm to stop his search and shooting him an apologetic smile, which he didn't return. Instead, he frowned, his green eyes narrowing into a glare.

"What the hell's up with you?! I've done everything I can to help you, to support you, to wait for you. What else do you want me to do, eh? I thought you were ready! Is it… Is it me? Am I not enough for you, don't you fancy me?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Paul. Of course I flamin' fancy you. I can't believe you don't know that."

"You don't fancy me enough to sleep with me. You know I won't hurt you or make you do anything you don't want to do. You're just being awkward. Frigid," Paul snapped, his final word particularly bitter, slicing through my like a razor-sharp knife. My mouth dropped open. Without saying a word, I slipped off of the bed and swiftly left the room, slamming the door on my boyfriend and his fury. I started up the corridor, which I'd believed to be entirely deserted, other guests still far too sober to be hitting the sheets with another random partygoer. I stopped outside Tom's bedroom, giving myself a moment to regain control of my emotions. My mind was a blur. Whilst this was partly down to the ridiculous amount of alcohol that I'd consumed, it wasn't helped by the worry and confusion that surrounded the past fifteen minutes and my passionate almost-romp with my loving boyfriend. I felt like such a bitch. He did nothing but treat me like a princess, yet I gave him nothing worthwhile in return. I was seventeen. I didn't know why the thought of wriggling around underneath his hot, familiar body made me cringe, but I was aware that a part of me didn't want to sleep with him. I wasn't yet ready. In fact, I didn't want to talk to a man for the rest of the evening, yet alone have any form of physical contact with them. That was, of course, until I felt a comforting hand on my shoulder, and could sense that someone leant close to my ear; I could smell the familiar scent of seductive aftershave, tickling my senses and making me melt there and then. I hadn't even heard the sound of his voice.

"What's up, princess…?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in a sincere concern as he gentle turned me to face him, tilting my chin as I tried to avoid making eye contact. As I met the blue eyes of Liam Connor, my spirits were instantly lifted, though there was no chance of me admitting this to him.

"Don't call me that," I complained, "I'm not your 'princess'. I'm not your anything."

"Ouch. Harsh. Come on, love. What's wrong? I take it you couldn't go through with it in the end?"

"Paul told you?!"

"Duh. I'm his brother," Liam snorted, taking my hand in his and lightly massaging my knuckles with his thumbs. He nodded in the direction of Tom's bedroom, his eyes first darting around the room to check for any unwanted observers.

"No, Liam…" I mumbled, thankful for the dim lighting that shielded my rosy cheeks from him, "I… I can't. Paul's only in there—"

"So? I'm not asking you to come in there for a bit of 'how's your father?'. I'm asking you to come in for a chat. You know, that thing that a couple of mates are able to do with no strings attached. Besides, your eyes are red. We can't have you bursting into tears in the middle of the dancefloor, now, can we?" I was forced to agree with him, and as Liam led me into Tom's bedroom, I couldn't help but feel that everything was right.


	8. Lace

**Sorry for the long wait, I've been in a show and catching up with my A Level work! I have a question: Would you rather the next chapter was a sex scene, or shall I skip the naughties? Please review and let me know! Hope you like it! :). And sorry if you feel it's a bit jaggered and jumpy! :(.**

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I groaned as I sunk into the bed, a pained expression painted on my face. My eyes were closed in a bid to stop the spinning, drunken sensation, my trembling hands clasped in my lap. Slowly, I allowed her heavily-made up eyelids to flutter open, focussing on the one source of movement in the room: my boyfriend's brother. Liam was pacing back and forth, clearly having avoided most sources of alcohol throughout the night. I assumed he hadn't felt in the mood for boozing. He'd probably been too busy experiencing an intense pang of jealousy as he watched myself and Paul enjoying time together. Being a couple. Acting as though he didn't exist. He sighed before reluctantly pausing and turning to me, his blue eyes sincere and caring, for a change.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked, cautiously.

"Are you saying he would?"

"No! No, he's not like that. But he's never had a problem getting his leg over before, either. I don't know. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that were all."

"Not like you to be Mr Concerned," I scoffed, my lips pursing somewhat at the memories of how he'd practically seduced me without so much as touching me. I wondered whether he'd ever acted this way before, whether he got a kick out of manipulating innocent young women. As soon as his eyes met mine and the connection between us was complete once again, I knew my answer. I knew that Liam was just as new to these emotions as I was.

"What do you want me to say, Carla? I care about you…" he mumbled, taking a seat beside me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body against my own skin. His words sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

"I care about you, too…" I admitted, my cheeks reddening slightly, "I know it doesn't seem like I do when you see me with Paul, but… I do care. I don't like upsetting you. I wish there was some way that we could go about it without anyone get hurt. But what do I do, eh? If I carry on as I am, I hurt you. If I dump Paul and turn to you instead, I'll end up hurting him. It seems like I can't win either way, like whatever I do will be wrong somehow. It's a lose-lose situation."

"You shouldn't have to worry about hurting me. I'm a big boy."

"But I do. I'm a big girl, but it'd probably tear me up inside if I caught you with your hands all over some other girl."

"So what do we do? Like you said, if you dump Paul, he'll be devastated," Liam sighed, his teeth lightly grazing over his lower lip as he considered my options, evidently struggling to find an easier way out of our predicament, "I'll just have to grin and bear it."

"You realise I fancy you like mad as well?" I replied, "So it's not just you who would end up losing out." A sudden silence fell upon us, both lost in our own thoughts, only disturbed by the faint thudding of music from the floor below. I dreaded to think where Paul was. Probably draped over some other girl with a plan to get her into bed and merely blame it on his drunken state. Obviously, I liked to think that I was his one and only, that he would never cheat on me in a million years, especially not for only one night. Then again, where was I at that moment? Trying to fight off the temptation to plaster his brother's face with a flurry of crimson kisses. Not exactly a model girlfriend who deserved somebody who was faithful.

"We're talking about it as if it's nothing more than some big game. You know, like there's a winner and a loser, a villain and the good guy… Carla, this is our lives. This is the relationship between me and my brother. We hurt him and he'll never speak to me again. Fact."

"You think I don't know that already? It's only kept me awake every night for the past couple of weeks! It's constantly on my mind. I'm always wondering whether I'm making the right decision."

"And are you?"

"I don't know. I've got far too many decisions left to make." Again, silence. This time, I could feel the draw between is sparking in the air. My lips twitched as I imagined his on mine, exploring the unfamiliar creases. His hands roaming my body, sliding under my dress and toying longingly with the lace waistband of my underwear. Touching me. Wanting me. All worries and thoughts of Paul would drain away; I'd waited too long to be hesitant. I would be the envy of every girl I knew. Liam Connor had been a pin-up for as long as I could remember, and here I was, merely inches away from him. His shirt was unbuttoned to his heart, messily, as if it had been tampered with by somebody else. I was jealous. Jealous that somebody else had beaten me to it and touched what I considered my territory. I wanted to be the one to throw his shirt to the floor. For the first time, I began to understand why I had yet to experience the hunger to devour Paul. I was too fixated on the younger Connor brother. And suddenly, I realised that the feelings were entirely mutual as he slipped his strong arm around my waist and encouraged by to rest into it as he firmly pressed his lips against mine. His kiss. The sweet taste of his tongue as its tip brushed mine before my lips parted and allowed him further access. The way we seemed to fit, our breaths in perfect unison, our fingers intertwined in our laps. Before I knew it, I was being laid across the mattress of Tom's bed, my hips automatically raising slightly as Liam's body slotted between my thighs, both of us still fully clothed. His fingers crept up my body, along the material of the dress which accentuated my curves and made him sigh in contentment. Across my collarbone and up the side of my neck, stimulating a soft groan of pleasure from my lips, and eventually tangling in my hair. He tugged, though not enough to hurt me. I felt his skin against mine as he peppered my neck with kisses before gradually making his way back to my lips and drawing yet another kiss from them. Every second that our bodies were in contact was worth the wait.


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